


Obsession has to have action

by stateofintegrity



Category: Rush (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 08:18:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7632214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex takes Geddy away from a party and into a night of adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obsession has to have action

This was the last place he wanted to be. He hated parties anyway – the stupid small talk, the lame attempts to impress people. And now, hiding away in the hallway, he sighed to hear a drunken John Rutsey explain that he was indeed a guy, long hair and slim hips to the contrary. The pain was old now and not so sharp and he knew he would be okay just as long as his inebriated bandmate didn’t call for him, didn’t pose him like some creature on display at a freak show. _Ladies and gentlemen, step right up! The Amazing Androgyne: Geddy Lee!_ He sighed, blew his hair out of his eyes. It was his fault, he supposed. He wouldn’t make himself into the expected thing, so what did he expect, really? He could have changed his clothes, cut his hair, tried to downplay whatever it was the made him into some sort of visual riddle, but he couldn’t see what he would gain from it.

 What he’d thought to gain coming here – well, that had obviously been a pipe dream from the start. He’d gone through with it, though, stubborn as always. He’d tried to make himself into something that would catch _his_ eye, even if nothing he could do would clue his best friend into the feelings now holding sway over his heart. Though never a drinker, he’d implemented the old cream soda trick, splashing the golden, foamy liquid into a glass and tossing the bottle. It _looked_ like beer and if anyone started chanting “chug, chug,” he wouldn’t end up curled up on the bathroom floor. The sweet liquid sparkled through him, teasing his tongue as he strained after the sound or sight of his best friend.

 Alex was always easy to find. He had a tendency to dominate the music at parties, warding off guests who approached the record player with the soft sounds of a Don Mclean or Three Dog Night, holding, instead, to Todd Rundgren, T. Rex, Argent. His laughter carried, too, though Geddy could not have said if this was simply “the cocktail party effect” with the sound of Alex replacing his own name or if there was something about that golden sound that made it stand out. And there was more of gold to Alex than the sound of his voice; Geddy had been using the honey-haloed fluff of his hair as a compass needle all night long. Or maybe it was that Alex was the warm, bright light of the distant sun – the thing he orbited but could never quite reach. It certainly felt that way tonight.

 The guitarist had greeted him when he’d come in; his huge hand had even come down on his shoulder. But his eyes had been wild even at that early hour. Animated and inebriated, he’d likely forgotten his friend’s presence. _Well, that’s that_ , the singer thought to himself. _I probably wouldn’t have been able to tell him anyway… and this would have been the wrong place._ Still, he’d made himself leave the house, he’d gotten to watch and quietly worship. It was enough for now. He could say that he’d made the effort and he’d certainly proven that he was head over heels; he hadn’t drank a thing but his entire body was singing with excitement, with a hopeless, giddy, silly joy. Slipping into his jacket, he quietly let himself out into the dark.

He was halfway around the bright and noisy house when Alex slipped a warm, unsteady arm around his waist. “Where you going, Dirk?”

He jumped. “Where did you come from?” The guitarist’s dandelion mane shined softly in the dark.

“Ohhhh, I can _always_ find you,” Alex slurred, adorable and ridiculous. “Now, come back inside with me. We’re gonna play spin the bottle.”

“Aren’t you a little old for junior high games, Lerxst?”

“They’re more fun when you’re older-er,” the guitarist explained, tongue tripping over a syllable. “Come on.”

Maybe because Alex was drunk anyway, Geddy didn’t bother to censor himself. “And see someone get all disappointed when the bottle points at me? I’m nice, Lerxst, but even I don’t like having to say ‘Oh, it’s okay. You don’t have to kiss _me_. I can see why you wouldn’t want to. No hard feelings.’”

Alex stopped walking, looked confused and hurt. “ _I_ wouldn’t say that.”

Geddy forced a laugh. “You’ve had too, too much to drink. Want me to take you home?”

“No. I want you to play a _diff-er-rent_ game. A game with me.”

If he had not been in love with the guitarist, Geddy might have let go of him and let him slump into the dew-damp grass to sleep it off. “Okay,” he agreed, voice fond and tender and disappointed. “What do you want to play, Ali?” _Please don’t say darts…_

“Seven minutes of heaven.”

He chuckled and gently disentangled himself, making sure Alex would stay on his feet. “I’m sure there’s any number of people in Lindy’s house who will happily climb into a closet with you, Lerxst.”

 “I don’t want to play with them,” the guitarist whined. He tugged at the bassist’s long fingers, pulling him out into the night. “Come on.”

 Not knowing what else to do, Geddy followed his friend down the long drive and then down the street to his battered van – seats removed to allow for hauling drums and amplifiers. Alex moved like a spy the entire time, looking around with exaggerated caution and holding his finger to his lips to motion for silence. Geddy guessed that they were sneaking out, but he couldn’t imagine why. The motives of a _sober_ Alex were difficult to figure out; he wasn’t even going to try to guess what was going on in the guitarist’s mind now. _I **did** want to spend the night with him_ , he couldn’t help thinking. _And he is certainly happy about it. Sometimes it is those answered wishes you have to watch out for…_

And speaking of things to watch out for: “Oh, no,” Geddy said when he saw his friend begin to fumble for the keys. “ _You_ are _not_ driving.”Alex looked perplexed at that but then shrugged and smiled. If Geddy wanted to drive, he could let him. Closing his hands gratefully on the surrendered keys, the singer glanced into the passenger seat where Alex was vainly trying to situate himself. “Where do you want to go?”

“The baseball fields of course,” Alex told him, sounding disappointed that he had not already guessed their destination.

“You hate baseball,” Geddy reminded him as they moved down the street and away from town.

“We’re not playing baseball,” the blond guitarist explained in a tone that suggested that Geddy was just a little bit off today if he couldn’t see such an obvious thing for himself. His overactive fingers toyed with the seat belt. Geddy wondered how long it would be before someplace that served coffee opened.

“So what _are_ we doing?” he asked, turning down the mostly dirt track that led down into the deep darkness of the baseball fields. Alex ignored the question, motioning him to drive to the edge and then turn the van off. Deciding that humoring a drunken Alex was more fun than he’d been having at the party anyway, Geddy parked where he was told and watched the blackness roll over them like the sea.

Valiantly struggling his way out of the passenger seat, Alex led the way to the back of the van, snagging things from the storage cubbies as he went. For all the times that he’d ridden in the van to gigs (alternating with John between the floor and the passenger seat since Alex _did_ enjoy being their captain…) those cupboards still remained a mystery to Rush’s singer. At one time or another, he’d found everything in them – usually under Alex’s directions. Spare amplifier cables lived there, sometimes. Or maybe there was a spare pack of smokes. Once, Alex had turned an entire cubby into a house for an injured bat he was nursing back to health, scolding his two bewildered bandmates when they’d opened it and set the poor thing screaming at them. This time, Alex had produced nothing more unusual than some blankets, a lighter, and a joint. Geddy sighed in relief. Clearly the silly games of Lindy’s party had been forgotten and all his friend wanted to do now was mellow out. This he could handle.

Head resting beside his friend’s shoulder in the dark, Geddy couldn’t help but smile. How many times had they been like this – sharing some space as they dreamed of becoming real, touring musicians? Having reached this calm and quiet space, he found himself glad that he’d gone to the party after all. And, he mused, smile brightening and tugging at his mouth, with Alex as far gone as he was, he could probably tell him everything and suffer nothing. But no. Better to just have this – the joint passed back and forth in the dark, the heady, woody smoke in his lungs, the sound of Alex breathing in and out. Exhaling a faint cloud of smoke, Alex settled and Geddy wondered if he had fallen asleep. Then his voice came, small and almost childlike out of the dark. “Can we play my game now?”

 

_How the hell am I supposed to say “no” to something that sounds like that? Hell, when have I ever told him “no” at all?_ “What game, Ali?”

The guitarist held a hand out. “Watch.”

“There’s a game called ‘Watch?’” Geddy teased, unfastening it from his wrist. Their friendship owed a lot to such stupid humor, but Alex just made an impatient noise at him and brought the time piece to his eyes, straining for the numbers.

“It is 2:12,” the guitarist declared and Geddy started. Alex didn’t sound drunk at all, now. But Alex didn’t wait for his mind to wonder, to process, to start, as he liked to say, “Dirk-ing out.”

Instead, he laid the watch beside his best friend’s head and kissed him on the mouth.

Geddy didn’t know what to do. He could feel the scratchy van carpeting poking at his back, but his hands were frozen, fingers open on air. His mind was as silent as the darkness all around them; all the words had been disintegrated by the heat of that wet, searching, sucking mouth.

“You taste all sweet,” the guitarist told him, eyes still managing to gleam in the dark. “Cream soda?”

He nodded dumbly. Then he started to shake.

"Don’t be scared,” Alex whispered, fingers trailing down his cheek. “You taste too good to be scared.”

 It didn’t make much sense.

 But, then, being in a van in a darkened parking lot beside a baseball field didn’t make sense either. As Alex leaned over him again, Geddy found that he didn’t exactly care. Moving gently for all that he was heavier and (a little) taller than his best friend, Alex nuzzled him into calmness, kissing his forehead and his nose, nipping and nibbling at his jaw. When Geddy broke into goose bumps – more from shock than any actual chill – the guitarist used his huge, strong hands to rub the warmth back into his limbs, without seeming to want anything at all in return. _This is all for you_ , his dark, gleaming eyes seem to say. _For all the times I’ve borrowed something, borrowed **you**_.

_He’s actually into this_ , Geddy thought, wonder and alarm jangling together in his brain. _Those dark eyes, God…_

He thought that he should have cautioned his friend. He was supposed to be the sensible one. Did he tell Alex that he’d probably regret this when the booze wore off? _But he knows it’s **me.** He brought me here, he kissed me, he… holy fuck!_

Alex had just driven his tongue past his teeth, deep inside of him, and the helpless singer couldn’t help thinking that it was like being wetly fucked; his mouth throbbed when the plundering tongue withdrew.

And then the guitarist was sitting over him like a golden and contented cat, busy hands still balled up in the folds of his t-shirt. Geddy blinked up at his smiling face, dazed. Alex didn’t make him voice the question. “Our time is up,” he explained.

Seeing him smirk, Geddy reached up and gripped his shoulders with surprisingly strong fingers. The flash of his bare wrists in the low light made Alex dizzy. “Your watch is fast.”

 “… akshully-iss-yer-washtch,” Alex mumbled under the assault; Geddy’s mouth was everywhere! He’d known that his pretty bassist had been longing; it was impossible not to notice the looks he’d been getting from those big, brilliant eyes. He’d only waited because it had been so intoxicating to live on the anticipation, to know that Geddy could be, would be _his_. Escaping his best friend’s warm and hungry mouth (with a head full of fantasies about what Geddy might be persuaded to do with a mouth like that) he kissed down his fine, thin collarbones. Lifting his shirt, he moaned senseless words of praise over his white skin as he tasted him everywhere. He even got Geddy to giggle as he left his quivering stomach to nuzzle at his belly button.

He smiled against the singer’s skin and knew that Geddy felt the warmth of it because he calmed and ran his fingers through his golden hair. His touch so soft and so tender that it made Alex’s blue eyes well. When he looked up, Geddy had closed his eyes. Lying still, breathing through his mouth, he was the perfect picture of a boy angel in love. _My rock star_ , Alex thought, treasuring the possessive.

Wanting to kiss him everywhere, he used his hands and his mouth to maneuver the singer. Turned onto his stomach, Geddy found his abs cradled by Alex’s huge hands as the guitarist made love to the small of his back. His breath came now in starts; he exhaled sharply, wanting almost to scream, as each motion of that warm, wet tongue made him pulse in his jeans. The goofy part of his mind hoped that the zipper was industrial strength; it was certainly taking a beating!

He wondered if Alex knew what he was doing to him. His fingers made soft, up-and-down motions across his abdomen, but he’d made no move to close his hands on his throbbing shaft. And that tongue! He was sure that Alex didn’t know it, but his tongue moving in slow circles _there_ made him want to beg him to rip his pants off and circle him somewhere else. Leave it to him to go to bed with a directionally impaired sexual genius! Alex just smiled a hidden smile when he made his lover’s hips start to move.

“Shhh, shh,” he murmured, answering Geddy’s little cries of frustration. “I’ll get you off, baby.”  A strangled silver sound was his answer, and he thrilled to hear the only lover he’d ever wanted begging wordlessly for his touch.

Geddy’s hands were dug into the scratchy carpet with its garish orange fibers, so it was up to Alex to undress him. He didn’t even bother to push his jeans past his feet. Body wrapped around Geddy to keep him warm, he fit his hand to his cock and began to worship him with fingers trained on a dozen guitar necks. It felt perfect and it had the young musician suddenly wondering if this was the performance he’d truly been preparing for. He murmured his best friend’s name as if it was a charm, drunk on its taste in his mouth. “Ged, Ged, Ged…” _Mine. Mine. Mine_.

Geddy wanted to answer, but he was shaking like a kite in a gale. _Never like this. God, it’s never been like this…_ When Alex worked a spit-slippery finger into him, he sang out a note that he’d never hit onstage. Improvising, Alex danced the fingers of one hand over his balls just so that his palm could be back over his abs; if he hadn’t, he wasn’t sure he could have kept Geddy upright. Circling him softly inside, the guitarist waited for him to recover enough to hold himself up on shaky knees.

“You okay, Dirk?” Geddy had sounded like the soundtrack to a porn video, but he wanted to make sure. He’d protected him from bullies when they were kids; now that he had him as his lover, he never wanted to do anything but make him feel loved.

“Yes,” he said, but his teeth chattered. “I can’t believe you’re… you’re…. _oh, God_ , _Al_ -lex!”

_That voice…_ Excited beyond endurance by the sound of Geddy moaning out his name, the guitarist began to stroke him again while he angled his fingers upward, pushing deeper inside. Singing with the forceful sensations overtaking his body, Geddy reared back even as his cock thrust forward into Alex’s hand. 

“I’m going to come so hard!” he moaned and for the first time Alex remembered his own need; everything in him had lit up at those words.

Desperate to feel Geddy skin to skin, he shoved his pants down. A few quick strokes had him trembling on the brink, but he knew he didn’t want to spill into his hand. “Dirk, I’m going to come. Can I… can I put it in you? Just the tip? I swear it won’t hurt.”

The singer was almost there himself and would have agreed to anything to keep those fingers clenched around him. He tried to answer in the affirmative, but all that came out was Alex’s name.

The young bassist’s best friend must have heard the “yes” at the heart of his sweet moan, because he felt him come in. Alex was bigger than the fingers he’d pressed into him, thick and slippery. He felt his hips rock and then those talented fingers were squeezing around him like a vice as Alex wailed out, “Geddy!” and came.

Most of it ran down the back of his thighs, but some of it drizzled inside of him. When his own orgasm came, he felt himself flex muscles that he hadn’t even known about, claiming Alex, drawing him in, growing tight around him. With a sigh he went limp and dropped into Alex’s hands.

The worried, sticky guitarist rolled him over, half tripping over his jeans as he moved back over him. Seeing Geddy smile at his concern, he bent and gave him a deep kiss on the head of his cock. The sated shaft pulsed once, gently against his cheek.

It was going on three AM and there was a liberal amount of alcohol coursing through his bloodstream (though nowhere near as much as he’d let Geddy believe), but Alex knew there would never be anyone else for him. “I love you, Dirk.”

 Goofy best friend as well as new-won lover, Geddy smiled. “You’d better, after that!”

 As he laughed, the singer pulled him down and kissed him until they were both half-hard again. Seeing that gentle look return to his friend’s eyes, Alex gaped. “Again!?!”

 Geddy looked contrite. Sort of. “You don’t have to,” he mumbled.

 Alex shook his head. Geddy looked pretty wrecked, but he wouldn’t personally be satisfied until he knew that his singer was _beyond_ satisfied. _Smart, funny, sexy, amazing musician… and now he’s the energizer bunny of orgasms! What did I do right?_ “No, no,” he assured him with mischief-gleaming eyes. “Now it’s a _challenge_! I will make you come until you can’t come anymore… or until some part of my body goes numb trying!”

Embarrassed, Geddy groaned and buried his face in the carpet. “Ali!!”

“But not here. I want to take you to bed, okay?” He struggled back into his pants, ignoring their somewhat gooey state. “Keys?”

 Geddy shook his head at him. “You weren’t drunk at all, were you? Why the routine?”

“I wanted to get you away from everyone. I knew that if I played drunk you’d take care of me.” His eyes laughed. “If I had walked up to you in that party and told you that I wanted you, you would have passed out on the floor!”

Geddy swatted at him. “ _I_ wanted to walk up to you. I wasn’t brave enough though.”

“You were brave enough,” Alex assured him. “And beautiful. I watched you all night.” He started to say something else, but then pressed a hand to his mouth, as if to keep it inside.

“What?”

“It’s less romantic.”

“What?”

“You almost had me going off in my pants when you kissed me back.”

Geddy’s eyes flashed at that and the guitarist felt himself sway on his feet.

“I think I should take you home now, huh?”

 Radiating a killer combination of lust and adorableness, the singer climbed into the passenger seat with a smile. 


End file.
